“Hello, flower boy.” The words came from Rhy’s mouth in a voice that was, and wasn’t, his.

“Astrid,” hissed Kell. “Have you compelled everyone in this palace?”

A low chuckle escaped Rhy’s lips. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“What have you done with my brother?”

“I’ve only borrowed him.” Rhy’s fingers curled under his shirt collar and drew out the pendant. There was only one thing it could be: a possession charm. “Antari blood,” she said proudly. “Allows the spell to exist in both worlds.”

“You will pay for this,” growled Kell. “I will—”

“You will what? Hurt me? And risk hurting your dear prince? I doubt it.” Again, that cold smile, so foreign to Rhy’s face, spread across his lips. “Where is the stone, Kell?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rhy’s hand swept across the room. “I’m branching out.”

Kell pulled against his binds, the metal digging into his wrists. The dampening cuffs were strong enough to mute elemental abilities and prevent spellwork, but they couldn’t prevent Antari magic. If he could only—

“Tell me where you’ve hidden the stone.”

“Tell me why you are wearing my brother’s body,” he shot back, trying to buy time.

Astrid sighed from within the prince’s shell. “You know so little of war. Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.” She gestured down at Rhy’s body. “Kingdoms and crowns are taken from within. The strongest fortress can withstand any attack from beyond its walls, and yet even it is not fortified against an attack from behind them. Had I marched upon your palace from the steps, would I have made it this far? But now, now no one will see me coming. Not the king, nor the queen, nor the people. I am their beloved prince, and will be so until the moment I choose not to be.”

“I know,” said Kell. “I know what and who you are. What will you do, Astrid? Kill me?”

Rhy’s face lit up with a strange kind of glee. “No”—the word slid over his tongue—“but I’m sure you’ll wish I had. Now”—Rhy’s hand lifted Kell’s chin—“where is my stone?”

Kell looked into his brother’s amber eyes, and beyond them, to the thing lurking in his brother’s body. He wanted to beg Rhy, to plead with him to fight against the spell. But it wouldn’t work. As long as she was in there, he wasn’t.

“I don’t know where it is,” said Kell.

Rhy’s smile spread, wolfish and sharp. “You know.…” Rhy’s mouth formed the words, and Rhy held up his hand, considering his long fingers, the knuckles adorned with glittering rings. Those same hands began twisting the rings so that their jeweled settings were on the inside. “A little piece of me was hoping you would say that.”

And then Rhy’s fingers curled into a fist and connected with Kell’s jaw.

Kell’s head cracked to the side, and he nearly stumbled, but the guards tightened their grips and held him on his feet. Kell tasted blood, but Rhy just smiled that horrible smile and rubbed his knuckles. “This is going to be fun.”

III

Lila ascended the palace stairs, the half-cloak of her new coat billowing behind her. The shimmering midnight carpet rippled faintly with every upward step, as though it were truly water. Other guests climbed the stairs in pairs or small groups, but Lila did her best to mimic their lofty arrogance—shoulders back, head high—as she ascended alone. She might not be of money, but she’d stolen enough from those who were to copy their manners and their mannerisms.

At the top, she presented the invitation to a man in black and gold who bowed and stepped aside, allowing her into a foyer blanketed in flowers. More flowers than Lila had ever seen. Roses and lilies and peonies, daffodils and azaleas, and scores more she could not recognize by sight. Clusters of tiny white blossoms like snowflakes, and massive stems that resembled sunflowers if sunflowers were sky blue. The room filled with the fragrance of them all, and yet it did not overwhelm her. Perhaps she was simply getting used to it.

Music poured through a second, curtained doorway, and the mystery of what lay beyond drew Lila forward through the gallery of flowers. And then, just as she reached out to pull the curtain aside, a second servant appeared from the other side and barred her path. Lila tensed, worried that somehow her disguise and invitation were not enough, that she would be discovered as an impostor, an outsider. Her fingers twitched toward the knife under her coat.

And then the man smiled and said in stiff English, “I am presenting whom?”

“Excuse me?” asked Lila, keeping her voice low, gruff.

The attendant’s brow crinkled. “What title and name should I announce you under, sir?”

“Oh.” Relief swept over her, and her hand slid back to her side. A smile spread across her lips. “Captain Bard,” she said, “of the Sea King.” The attendant looked uncertain, but turned away and said the words without protest.

Her name echoed and was swallowed by the room before she’d even stepped inside.

When she did, her mouth fell open.

The vivid glamour of the world outside paled in comparison to the world within. It was a palace of vaulting glass and shimmering tapestry and, woven through it all like light, magic. The air was alive with it. Not the secret, seductive magic of the stone, but a loud, bright, encompassing thing. Kell had told Lila that magic was like an extra sense, layered on top of sight and smell and taste, and now she understood. It was everywhere. In everything. And it was intoxicating. She could not tell if the energy was coming from the hundreds of bodies in the room, or from the room itself, which certainly reflected it. Amplified it like sound in an echoing chamber.